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Firefly fanfic, short: "Between You and the Universe" PG-13
Author: H. Savinien
Fandom: Firefly
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, who is not me.
Rating/warnings: PG-13 for thematic content (sex, violence)
Summary: What stands between you and the universe?
A.N.: Fic for
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agenttrojie . Prompt was 'self-medicating'.Mal, finally down in the relative peace of his bunk, stretched out on his stomach and dropped his face onto his arms. “Hell...” His back itched all down the new long scar.
“Do you get some sort of twisted joy out of being blown up regularly? Is this a...hobby of yours, Captain?” the Doc demanded. “Just because I am fully capable of stitching your mangled flesh back together does not mean that I appreciate the opportunity to do so.”
“It ain’t my idea of a picnic either, but you recall it puts food into you and your sister’s crazy mouths, so shut yours.”
“You could have told him about the townsfolk, Sir,” Zoё said, quietly, after the Doctor had stormed off to fume elsewhere. “Eased his mind.”
Mal shook his head. “Not needful, Zoё.”
“Too many heroics will leave you cold, Sir, and us without a Captain.”
“Can’t have that, Zoё,” he laughed, wincing at the stretch on his stitches. “Don’t worry. I’ll make my best effort to avoid that happenstance.”
***
Zoё stretched out in the bed, savoring the joyful lust in
“You want to...what?” Mal asked, sounding a little dazed.
“Marry him, Sir.” She smiled slightly. “I thought it out systematically and it’s really the only reasonable thing to do.”
“Reasonable. You’re marrying him because it seems reasonable. You didn’t like him. I remember. I had to convince you we should hire him.”
“That’s right, Sir,” Zoё agreed.
“Um, hello...? Still actually in the room here,” the pilot interjected. “Listening to you talk about me.”
Mal ignored him. “You...changed your mind.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, if it makes you happy.” Mal looked sideways at Wash, who was fidgeting one leg in what appeared to be a bad case of nerves. “It’d better make you happy.” He looked closer, finally addressing
***
“Stars again?” the calm voice asked from the threshold of the cockpit.
He laughed self-consciously. “Yeah. Can’t get enough of ‘em. You’d think I’d be sick of the sight by now.”
Zoё moved closer. He could feel it without looking; a warm, steel, female presence behind him. She didn’t move to flick the lights on.
“’Course, back home they’d say all the little shiny lights had gone to my head.”
“You’re possibly the sanest person on this boat,” his wife’s velvet voice answered. “You make a living doing something you love. You set your course, trained, and you’re doing what you dreamed you would.”
She leaned down toward him.
“
“No problem, Kaylee,” Zoё replied easily. “Feel free to keep my man company. I have some cargo that needs checking up on.”
She smiled at
***
Kaylee felt the sweet hum of the engines in her blood, in her bones, in the pretty curves her brush made as she added another purple flower to her door. “Shiny.” The ruffles on her shirt tickled her arm as she hugged herself happily around the middle, looking over her handiwork.
“I understand you not having much in particular to do with your pay, Kaylee, but what is this?” Mal asked.
“Isn’t it awful pretty, Cap’n?” she asked delightedly, spinning the colored umbrella. “It was real cheap and the lady said she gave me a discount for being cute. Wasn’t that just sweet of her?”
“I...” Mal struggled. “Yes. Yes, it was.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Anything else?”
“Mmm, nope.” She grinned. “Not that I can conjure up. I wish we were taking on crew, though. I’d like a pretty boy.” She blinked thoughtfully. “Or a girl. I ain’t never tried anything with girls before. I bet it’s fun.”
The Captain coughed. “Ah. No, we’ve got no reason for hiring anybody.” He paused. “I need to go check on some...fuel now.”
Jayne wandered over, a crate cocked against one hip. “Got yourself some new frills, huh? Where’d you find that? Looks like a rainbow spewed on it.”
Kaylee tilted her head to look up at the umbrella and twirled it to see the pattern move. “I like it. It’s pretty. Didn’t have many pretties for myself growing up.”
***
Jayne dragged the whetstone over the blade once more, then blew it off and spat on it, polishing the metal against his britches. “’sgood.” He flipped the knife in the air and caught it by the tip, then sent it spinning, flipping slowly to land with a crisp thnk in the target.
“I ain’t doing it and that’s final. Money ain’t no use to nobody when they’re dead and that’s what we, all of us, will be if we take that job.”
“Is that all you care about? Death and money?”
“Now if everyone could please calm down and listen to each other for a moment, I’m sure we can work things out,” the preacher said serenely. “Nobody wants any of us to die and I’m sure Captain Reynolds wouldn’t have taken the job if there was a high likelihood of that happening.”
Wash shoved his chair over to the table and stalked off for the cockpit, still muttering.
“You ain’t been around here too long, Preacher, so you maybe ain’t got Mal too good yet. He sometimes ain’t good at the part where we ain’t supposed to die,” Jayne growled, polishing the gun’s barrel carefully.
“I note that you don’t seem to have died yet.”
Jayne shrugged. “Yeah. Well, that’s sorta a mixture of me shooting the hell outta most folks who try it and the Captain’s own personal strain of luck. We don’t die, we just sometimes get shot and sometimes don’t get paid. And sometimes both.” He stroked the pistol’s grip. “I get t’ shoot people a lot, though, and I get paid more than my last job.”
“You find that satisfaction enough?”
“Sure. Ain’t rocket science. I’m good at what I do and I get paid. And mosta the time I get to shoot assholes.”
***
Shepherd Book felt the burn inside him, his muscles (heart) twitching a bit as he released the weights with a clank back into the cradle. “Focus.” He relaxed against the mat, closing his eyes as he dismissed each aching muscle and recentered on the words inside him.
“Faith is a tricky thing, Doctor. Don’t expect me to agree that the whole of anyone’s hurts can be mended with a pill, some pins, or some computers,” Book said calmly. “Perhaps especially not your sister’s.”
“What would you have me do then, Shepherd? Sit by and do nothing?” Doctor Tam buried his head in his hands. “Our family never had much to do with religion. I don’t think River will find it the comfort that you seem to.”
“Comfort?” Book asked, voice amused. “I’m afraid religion was never meant to be particularly comfortable. There are helpful messages, though, for you as much as for your sister. I know you feel you’ve lost control, but perhaps the situation was never yours to control.”
The doctor growled bitterly. “So, it was the will of God that some psychotic government scientists decided to turn my little sister’s brain into a rubik’s cube.”
“Never. That is the curse that completes our blessing of free will. People have the ability to do evil.” Book shook his head. “But your sister’s extraordinary gifts will never be destroyed, despite the twisted use to which those men wished to put them. She is still herself and she can be brought back to the happy, dancing child you remember.”
“But...”
“She will.”
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PS: *tiny voice* My username's agenttrojie :)
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Thank you. ^_^ Glad you approve.
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Oh, I do. You have quite the fabulous grasp of Firefly-verse mannerisms and the characters of our favourite spacegoers :D
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